


Detention

by clovernose



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, High School AU, M/M, Student/Teacher, crackshipping, idk - Freeform, um, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-16 06:37:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clovernose/pseuds/clovernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ethos has detention and it's all Encke's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> um okay don't ask me why exactly i ship this  
> i just really like them together ok
> 
> this MAY be continued but we JUST dont KNOW

He stares at you with eyes of coal that, even in the warm light of this autumn afternoon, chills you to the bone.

Amber light slants in through blinds, rendering the room a soft honeycomb amber. You know that the only reason you're in here alone is because he seems to have it out for you, somehow. Keeping you an hour after everyone else only proves that point.

Yes, he was a hardass. He was... well. He was him. Everyone knew of him, of how hard his english class was. And now you, too, knew. You knew just how much he hated when people fell asleep in his class. He hated it this much. Or he hated you this much. You couldn't really tell.

You'd finished the assignment what felt like hours ago, the five-page paper sitting on your desk in front of you. You feel a haziness come onto you; the kind that forces it's heaviness, makes your eyelids feel like they're being drawn closed. You begin to doze, submitting yourself to the warm golden light, when it goes cold. You open your eyes.

He's there.

"Ethos, what are you doing?" He asks in a condescending tone. He paces around your desk as you try to stir from the cobwebs of sleep. "The exact same thing that got you detention?"

"I'm sorry," You putter, glancing up at his towering form with some difficulty. Which wasn't to say that he was unattractive. Because he was very nice to look at, he was just--

Okay, he had to stop thinking about this.

"That's right." He responded, snatching up the paper off of your desk. You're taken a little aback by the sudden action. You blink a little as he analyzes the essay, seeming to take in every crack and fault of your handwriting.

"Christ. How do you even read this?" He mutters and you sigh because it's just as you thought. "I want this edited and typed." He tosses the packet back at you and you let out a little, inaudible groan that he somehow, somehow, picks up on and narrows his eyes.

"Bring it typed tomorrow."

//

You hate staying up to type papers.

You hate having dreams about the reason you have to stay up writing papers.

//

Everyone else clears out and you stand up, taking out your neatly typed paper, all clean and neatly stapled. You're out to win this war, that was for sure. You make his way to his desk. He watches you expectantly.

"Good boy."

"Thanks." Asshole. You put it on his desk and cross your arms, sitting down on one of the desks in front of him. You weren't one to make a big deal about doing things that you do, like getting in trouble or having to type a paper. But for him? For him, well, it was a different story entirely.

He raises a brow at you but surprisingly doesn't say anything. You grip the edge of your desk and avoid the look he's giving you, looking you over. Just like your dream. You force your gaze outside before he gets you too worked up. You glance back and he's reading now. Your shoulders slump laxly and you're thankful you have a moment to recover.

You hate how much you crave his approval.

"Better than last time." He remarks, flipping through the pages. "At least I can read it now. Make out all of the... Erm. Technical flaws." He's cold with his words, sparing with his praise. It irks you and he knows it. You think he does, anyway.

"Uh. Okay." You say, trying to keep yourself short and restrained but then, of course, you start talking again and your brilliant plan to be cold to him goes down the drain. "Could you show me where I..." You search for the right word. "...Messed up? Just so I won't make the same mistake." He stands up from his desk and for a minute, you're scared you've annoyed him. He just looks at you.

"Let's go to your desk." And soon you're both there, paper pressed to the smooth surface of the tabletop with him behind you. You're nodding, pretending to note where he scarred the paper with red pen, indicating several mistakes you'd made. You can hardly pay attention. He's so... close. You want him on you, on your neck... Everywhere. You shudder and you think he notices because his speech slows, making you tense and break into a sweat. He doesn't say anything for a few moments. Oh god. Oh god.

"Am I scaring you, Ethos?" He asks softly, tone eerily low. You shake your head.

"N-No, sir." 

"Are you sure?" He says, and you can hear the doubt in his voice. It's sort of refreshing. You nod your head yes. "You seem awfully nervous." You press your lips tightly, swallowing. He has to know. He has to know how hard you are. How you totally have a thing for him and his stupid self. He has to know by now. 

He lowers himself dangerously close to your neck. You can damn near feel his lips against your skin and you want to groan. This is so wrong. This is so damn wrong but it feels too good for you to care, never mind tell him to stop.

"What do you want?" He murmurs, and you shudder, bucking like some kind of slut. You just want him to touch you. Or something. Anything right now.

"I-I want you," You mewl, tossing your head opposite of his. He chuckles, deep and hearty and you want to throw up. He's moving away. Your light eyes are watery and you swallow.

"I want a flawless essay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Ethos gets what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is finally DOne omfg o kay
> 
> i'm not goo d at writing smut orz so i just sort of  
> half assed this

You stay up all until about midnight making sure your essay is fucking perfect.

Free of any and all grammatical errors or flaws. Making it nice and technical but fluid and genuine, just like he wanted it. At least, you thought he wanted it like that. Your fury only adds fuel to your fire and you have that dream again. His hand wrapped around you, your breath coming out in short little sputters.

You hate waking up the next morning.

//

Detention is long and it drags on forever. The whole time you're fidgeting in your seat, trying to get comfortable. But everyone is wondering why you're still in here (You aren't exactly the stereotypical 'detention' kid) and they're looking at you, sticking out like a sore thumb.

You brush your fingers through your hair in anticipation. This is almost painful. You actually think your grades are suffering here. This is the only thing you've really been able to focus on the whole day; never mind classwork. You'd hoped for something, anything, in English class. But he gave you the cold shoulder, like he did with most everyone.

You lay your head down on your desk. It's raining today, and it's making you drowsy. Sleep is almost impossible given your current... state, but you think you can manage. You've already done your assignment. So, why not? You were just waiting, after all. Your light eyes close and god. God. No. You wake up and it's worse and everyone's leaving and how are you even supposed to go up there like this? After a daydream like that? Fuck, it wasn't even a daydream. That was a fucking fantasy and he looks at you from his desk expectantly. You bite your lip.

God damnit.

"Ethos," He says finally, standing from his desk after organizing a few things. You watch with big, light eyes. "I believe we had an agreement."

"Yes, sir." You say slowly, words like molasses on your tongue. You thank everything that's good in this world when he makes his way over, hand outstretched. "Here." He takes it.

You get the feeling that he likes it but you can't tell for sure. As a matter of fact, you can never tell with him. He's stoic and shows no sort of acceptance, but he's not making the same face he did yesterday. Which is a good thing, you suppose.

"No, no." He says, lips pressed tightly. You blink a little in surprise and you feel like you may cry. He crosses his arms, paper still in hand. "It's not flawless." Your throat tightens. God. No. Not now. Not here. Maybe later, when you're at home writing this assignment for the fourth time. Did anyone else have to do this? No. Probably not. Maybe what everyone said about him is true. Maybe he is a sadist. Maybe--

A pair of lips is pressed to yours before you can even register it. It's fast and hard and you can't really keep up. But you can try.

"I'm willing to settle." He mumbles as he breaks away from your lips. You're blushing hard when he wipes his mouth and turns away, leaving you quite slack-jawed, unsure of what, exactly, just transpired.

"Come back tomorrow to claim your prize."

You get off in the school parkinglot before you drive home.

//

The next morning, you carefully knock on his door. He looks up and blinks a little, waving you in.

"What is it, Ethos?" He asks and you blush. He knows exactly what it is. You know he knows. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in his words. He wants you to say it and you don't want to say it, but your libido overrides your pride and you manage to respond.

"I... I couldn't wait." You sputter, biting your lip. He looks you up and down and huffs a little, standing up and shaking his head. You watch, thinking he's going to show you out. Instead, he closes the blinds that hang in front of the window on his door, punching the lock on the knob. He turns back to you, and your eyes are big as he walks back.

"You couldn't _wait?"_ He growls in a way that isn't like it usually is. It's more jeering, more mocking than cold and stern. "You're just a little slut, aren't you, Ethos?" You shudder as he says your name, brushing past you as he sits back down at his desk. Your mouth is dry as he looks up at you from his seat, arms crossed. "Well?"  _He wants you to say it?_

"I-I am, sir..." You say, face heating up and your pants getting tighter. Fuck.

"C'mere." He says after a half a minute of silence. Your heart rams into your chest and comply, scooting onto his lap. You bite your lip. But soon his finger was there, sliding your lower lip out from your teeth. But his expression is evaluating. Deciding. "Ethos..."

"Are you scared of me?" He asks again, just like the other day. You shake your head no. "Are you telling the truth?" No, no you aren't. You are actually terrified and turned on and you don't even know what to do except shake your head no again. He lets out a chuckle and yanks you forward by your waist, your crotches colliding. Shit. He was already hard, too.

"Good." He purrs and you swear you're going to start crying because it feels so good an he's hardly done anything; it takes a moment to realize that you've been grinding on him for a little while now. He stops you and pushes you back, causing your eyes to go wide. "You should be." 

"S-Sir, I'm sorr--" Your words trail away as he undoes his pants, sporting a large bulge in his boxers. You blink at him, swallowing. "I'm s-sorry."

"You're damn right, you are." He growls and your grip at his thighs, pulling his pants just past his crotch, along with his boxers. You're in fucking awe of him in all of his glory.

For you.

"Take your jeans off, now, kid." He says and you clumsily do just that, leaving them with your boxers on the floor. In the meantime he'd been readying himself, lubricant and all. Where did he even get that from? Did he just keep it in his desk? You decide you don't want to know and blush as he's watching you, idling stroking himself. You think you're gonna faint.

"C-Can I come back up?" You ask and he nods, so you do just that.

He tugs you close, pushing a finger into you, which causes you to whine and buck a little. Fuck. He had big hands. You huff into his shirt, which smells nice and fresh and clean and it makes you relax a little, until he pushes another finger inside and it hurts.  _Fuck,_  it hurts. You let out a tiny "Ah-h!" and he snorts.

"Come on, now." He chides and bite at his neck in response, causing him to moan despite how sloppy and rushed it was. You wonder if anyone heard.

"Harder," He breathes and you shudder. At this point you had hardly adjusted to two fingers when suddenly, there's another. "Bite me harder and I swear to god, I'll f--" You're already there, already biting at his throat. His fingers his your prostate and you moan like a fucking girl, nails scraping at the teacher's back.

"Encke..." You barely manage to whimper. God damn. You need to feel that again. "Encke, please--"

"Please, what, Ethos?" He growls, fingers working away inside of you. teasing by just brushing over your sweet spot. " _Please fuck me, Sir?_ " He imitates you and you blush. That's exactly what you would've said. "You don't have to beg, baby," He murmurs, pressing against your prostate, eliciting a moan from you. 

"I'm not an unreasonable man."


End file.
